Leverage
by Vierge
Summary: [G1] Snarl and Wheelie are on a distant planet, looking for Decepticons. Unfortunately, they are also stuck: in mud, in the middle of a mangrove swamp, slowly sinking into the muck. And Snarl is losing patience with Wheelie: fast.


**Leverage**

_By: Vierge_

_A __Transformers: Generation 1__ Fan Fiction Piece_

_Gift Fic for: Nightwind_

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _Transformers_; they're the property of HASBRO and Takara. I'm just borrowing them for the purpose of this story, and I'll give them right back when I'm through. The only thing I own is the plot, and that's about it.

NOTES: This story was written as a gift fic for Nightwind for hitting the 3K mark on my DeviantArt profile page. When I first announced that I'd be opening requests for those who hit 3K pageviews, Nightwind assured me that should she hit that mark, she'd give me a challenge. And as it turned out, she _did_ hit it, and she _did_ give me a challenge.

The challenge was this: write Snarl and Wheelie together in a fic, and no, Snarl could not kill Wheelie. The challenge in that was obvious: for one, Snarl isn't exactly the most talkative of the Dinobots, nor is he the most personable. Wheelie, on the other hand, tends to be a bit too optimistic with things, and on top of that, speaks in rhyme. But I figured: well, why not? I already had something in mind, so why not give it a shot?

It turned out to be far tougher than I thought. Not in the sense that Snarl or Wheelie themselves were hard to write (though Snarl proved an interesting challenge), but more like Wheelie's dialogue was tough to write because it had to be in rhyme. Accidental rhyming is okay, but deliberate rhyming? That was the toughest part of writing this piece, and is the main reason why I won't be tackling Wheelie for a long, long time.

A warning: I've never seen Season 3 of the G1 series, so how I interpret Wheelie is mostly my take on him, and no one else's. The same goes for Snarl: since so little is written about him, I've decided to take liberties in my interpretation of him. If it doesn't make sense, blame me.

RATING: PG/K

TEASER: Snarl and Wheelie are on a distant planet, looking for Decepticons. Unfortunately, they are also stuck: in mud, in the middle of a mangrove swamp, slowly sinking into the muck. And Snarl is losing patience with Wheelie – _fast._

**Leverage**

This was wrong. This was very, _very_ wrong. And once he found who was at fault, the slagger would most assuredly _die._

Snarl was _not_ happy. Here he was, lost on some distant planet, trying to find a clutch of Decepticons who were, in all likelihood, already off-planet, and he was _stuck. _And it was not the usual kind of stuck, in the sense of being locked in a room or shackled to a wall or having his tail caught somewhere. Oh no: he was in his stegosaur-mode, stuck knee-joint deep in thick, sucking _mud,_ in the middle of a swamp,and slowly, slowly _sinking._

While that situation was bad enough as is, the crowning insult to the whole undignified scenario was his companion, the very last Cybertronian he _ever_ wanted to be stuck with.

Wheelie.

"Don't you fret, we'll get out of this yet!" the young Autobot declared confidently in his usual rhyming speech – even though he, too, was slowly sinking in the mud.

A lot of the other Autobots thought of the Dinobots as being mindless louts, more brawn than processing power – if they even _had_ any. While there might have been some truth to that, Snarl also knew that it was partially wrong. They _weren't _totally stupid: Grimlock, especially. As a matter of fact, Snarl had always thought that Grimlock, with his take-no-prisoners policy, would have been a more effective Autobot Commander. Had that been the case, then Megatron would have been done away with a long time ago, and maybe that whole situation with Galvatron would never have happened, and _he_ wouldn't be here right now.

But that was a moot point, especially to Snarl. Snarl only concerned himself with politics when they directly involved him, and when they didn't he preferred to keep far away from it. It was simply too complicated for him. Besides, he preferred dealing with the finer points of war: meaning, the battles he fought in and the missions he was sent on. Let Grimlock think about strategy and deal with the upper command echelon; Snarl just wanted to fight.

But he could not do that – not when he was in the middle of this slagging swamp on this Primus-forsaken planet, when he ought to have been on dry land, wreaking mass destruction and havoc on every Decepticon in sight.

As things stood, he was more likely to kill Wheelie – if only to shut him up.

"Wheelie knows we need to get out now, but the question is: how?" Wheelie looked at Snarl. "Tell Wheelie if you have a plan; Wheelie will do what Wheelie can."

"You Wheelie's fault we stuck," Snarl growled. "You Wheelie think of plan."

It was the truth, as far as Snarl was concerned. Snarl had wanted to wait outside the forest until Wheelie had flushed out all the Decepticons from their hiding places, so that all he had to do was smash them. But no: Wheelie insisted that he come along with him, and now they were _both_ stuck.

"Awww, don't feel so sad! It's not that bad!" Wheelie grinned, and Snarl wanted nothing more than to introduce the slagger to his tail-spikes. "We just need to get un-stuck from this muck."

Snarl's optics flashed. If he had to listen to that rhyming thing for much longer, he would blast Wheelie and leave him for dead. He'd say that they were attacked by Decepticons, and Wheelie got hit. They wouldn't have to know…

Wheelie made a triumphant sound then, and when Snarl looked up he saw his erstwhile companion holding onto…a length of vine?

Wheelie grinned at him. "We have rope, and now we have some hope!"

Snarl snorted and shook his head. "That not rope."

"It can be. Just watch, you'll see." Wheelie looked around, and that was when Snarl noticed something different in Wheelie. It was as if he had gone all serious, his optics narrowing slightly as he stared at a branch over his head.

The next thing Snarl knew, Wheelie had thrown the vine over the branch, and the other end of it was lying across his snout. Before he could do anything, though, Wheelie said: "That will get Wheelie into the trees, so could you pull on that, please?"

"Why? So you Wheelie can leave me Snarl here?"

Wheelie frowned. "Wheelie thinks that's very mean. Wheelie just wants to help, as you have seen. When Wheelie out, Wheelie will help you out. So hold onto that end, and let's hope the branch doesn't break or bend."

Since he had no other choice, Snarl did what Wheelie asked him to: he held onto the other end of the vine, which turned out to be tougher than he'd thought; the material actually held up under the pressure of his metal jaws and teeth.

"And now that everything's just so… Here we go!" With that, Wheelie started to shimmy up the makeshift rope to the branch overhead, while Snarl held the rope at his end so that Wheelie didn't go tumbling back down into the mud.

Fortunately the branch over which Wheelie had looped the vine was sturdy enough to bear his weight, and strong enough to let him shimmy across it and onto solid ground, still holding his end of the vine.

Grinning once again, he turned around to face Snarl. "Just keep your cool, Wheelie will help you pull. If Wheelie pulls while you move to shore, walking shouldn't be such a chore."

Snarl took Wheelie to mean that he ought to hold onto his end of the vine and try walking to shore while Wheelie pulled, and Snarl did just that. The combined effort of trying to move his feet out of the mud, and the pulling motion that Wheelie (surprisingly strong for his size) did from shore, actually enabled Snarl to pull his legs free of the sucking mud, and make it back to land – _stable_ land.

Wheelie smiled up at him. "Good to be back on land; far less dangerous than quicksand!" He turned around, peering into the jungle. "Wheelie won't make the same mistake again. Wheelie won't see you slain."

Snarl snorted. "You Wheelie do no favors for me Snarl." That was also the closest Snarl would get to saying "thank you" to Wheelie, and if the glow in Wheelie's optics was any indication, he knew that too.

They did not, however, have much time to lose. Every second they spent dawdling here would only out more distance between them and the Decepticons, or alert them to their presence. That was the last thing they wanted.

And so Snarl nodded towards the deep fastness of the jungle, keeping a more careful optic on the ground. "We go."


End file.
